No: she felt she could not speak. A cloud had come for a time across her life; but it was now gone, and she was at rest. She could not--she dared not tell Lucy her inmost thoughts, for if she did she knew that she would be condemning herself to a hard fight with a special advocate, one who would gain an easy victory in a cause which she dreaded to own had the deepest sympathy of her heart. Just at that moment Eliza entered hastily. "Oh, if you please, Miss, I'm very sorry, but--" The girl stopped short. She had made up her speech on her way to the room, but had forgotten the presence of the visitor, so she broke down, with her mouth open, feeling exceedingly shamefaced and guilty, for she knew that the simple domestic trouble about which she had come was not one that ought to be blurted forth before company. "Will you excuse me, dear?" said Lucy, and, crossing to Eliza, she followed that young lady out of the room, to hear the history of a disaster in the cooking department; some ordinary preparation, expressly designed for that most unthankful of partakers, Moray Alleyne, being spoiled. Hardly had Lucy left her alone, and Glynne drawn a breath of relief at having time given to compose herself, than a shadow crossed the window, there was a quick step outside, and the next moment there was a hand upon the glass door that led out towards the observatory, as Alleyne entered the room. Volume 2, Chapter XIII. AND RETIRES BEHIND A CLOUD. "Miss Day! you here?" cried Alleyne, as she rose from her seat, and then as each involuntarily shrank from the other, there was a dead silence in the room--a silence so painful that the thick heavy breathing of the man became perfectly audible, and the rustle of Glynne's dress, when she drew back, seemed to be loud and strange. Glynne had fully intended that the next time she encountered Alleyne she would be perfectly calm, and would speak to him with the quietest and most friendly ease. That which had passed was a folly, a blindness that had been a secret in each of their hearts, for granting that which had made its way to hers, she was womanly enough of perception to feel that she had inspired Lucy's brother with a hopeless passion, one that he was too true and honourable a gentleman ever to declare. This was Glynne's belief; and, strong in her faith in self, she had planned to act in the future so that Alleyne should find her Lucy's cordial friend--a woman who should win his reverence so that she would be for ever sacred in his eyes. But she had not reckoned upon being thrown with him like this; and, as he stood before her, there came a hot flush of shame to fill her cheeks, her forehead and neck with colour, but only to be succeeded by a freezing sensation of despair and dread, which sent the life-blood coursing back to her very heart, leaving her trembling as if from some sudden chill. And Alleyne?